One day while we rode the bus to his place, he put down his book, leaned over, pecked me on the lips and continued reading.
I miss waking up to him, even though we never slept well together. He sleeps on his back and I sleep on my stomach, so we'd separate during the night and feel uncomfortable, then wake up and scoot closer together again. It was kind of funny. We seem to fit together (as he once said) so well, except that we could not sleep comfortably.
On the way home I turned the radio off and just smiled at the memories of him that I can visit anytime.
Eating at Chipotle while waiting for my sister to get off work, talking about what celebrities we find attractive. That day, he told me the two things that irritate him more than anything else.
Those thoughts kept me company on the long drive home, right now I'm thinking of different ones.
Oversleeping once and waking up to find out he'd made both of us breakfast.
The first time he rolled over on his side and kissed me sweetly, his hand behind my left ear. Then he stopped, smiled at me, and then went back to looking at the sky. I wanted a thousand more.
The way we talked about anything and everything.
Once I wondered aloud how plants feel when the sun goes down.
B-kawk!
Cha. chee cha. Chee cha. Chee cha! Coo coo kacha! Coo coo kacha!
Oh, I miss him.
Not just the sweet and romantic things, his company and conversation.
I thought it would be awkward for me to visit him, especially because I'm about 90% sure he'll be in some sort of relationship by the next time I see him, but I realized just now that I don't care about that as much.
I really am ecstatic that he exists at all. A gentleman that pulls out my chair for me and then pushes it in when I sit down. A warm, open presence and a kind, young soul.
I can't wait to see him again.
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